


Pretending to be Potter

by indigoprinceofslytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Affection, Angel Wings, Asexual Relationship, BDSM, Bisexual Harry Potter, Body Paint, Body Worship, Childbirth mention, Consensual Kink, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, Depression, Dom Harry Potter, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Gentle Kissing, Gentleness, Happy Ending, Healer Draco Malfoy, Identity Issues, Implied Past Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Kink Negotiation, Kissing, Knockturn Alley, Lapdance, Light Angst, Light BDSM, Light-Hearted, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mirrors, Near Death Experiences, No Sex, No Slash, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Past Relationship(s), Platonic BDSM, Platonic Romance, Post-War, Praise Kink, Running Away, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Sensual Play, Sensuality, Snarky Harry, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Sub Draco Malfoy, Subspace, Switch Harry Potter, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wandlore, fluffy BDSM, gentle Dom/sub, loving kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigoprinceofslytherin/pseuds/indigoprinceofslytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the pressures of the Post-War Wizarding world prove to be too much to handle, Harry runs away, telling his friends he's going travelling round the world, when really he's decided to go hide in plain sight as one of many Harry Potter impersonators in Oliver Wood's new kinky night club in Knockturn Alley: Snitches. Harry quickly gains a  reputation as one of the best professional switches in the business and fate finally seems to be giving Harry a bit of a break for once. That is, until one night when none other than Draco Malfoy requests Harry for a private booking in deluxe room number thirteen. </p>
<p>Has Harry's secret finally been discovered? Is Malfoy up to something?<br/>And just what was Draco doing there in the first place?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snitches

It'd been a few years since the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the war and the hopes for the future everyone had still childishly held onto. Voldemort was gone but nothing was ever really going to be the same again. Homes and families throughout the magical world still bore the scars from both wizarding wars and even through the months of celebrations that followed the final battle, Harry was aware that it would never really be over. Not for him. He'd seen too much to just settle down and act like everything was fine. Like he was fine. 

He just wanted peace for a change but everyone wanted something from him - the Chosen One, the one who saved us all - and he just couldn't handle it. His friends had been there for him as much as they could, but truthfully they had their own lives and loves and they didn't need him to mess things up for them. No matter where Harry went he was trailed by reporters from the daily prophet, or 'devoted' fans (stalkers) or Voldemort sympathisers that hadn't been caught by the aurors yet. He knew it wasn't fair on his friends - even Ginny who had been a constant by his side (despite the fact they'd decided that they ultimately preferred friendship to dating one another) through the seemingly endless parade of funerals and memorials and speeches to mark their fallen dead was showing the strain of what they'd all collectively and individually been through - her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot when she thought Harry wasn't paying attention - and Harry found that he couldn't bear to add to all that pain and grief with the weight of his own. And he couldn't pretend to cope anymore, couldn't stand the weight of being the hero any more. 

So he left.

He wrote a letter explaining to his friends that he was fine, but needed to take some time out - he didn't know how long for, to see the world - live for himself and make his own choices. Be free. It was a pretty reasonable and convincing letter, Harry thought, and would stop his friends from worrying about him too much and allow them the space they needed. 

It was also a lie, of course, but there was no way that he was going to burden them with his problems, not now, especially not with everything so raw.

He didn't even know how to begin to tell the truth of his real plan anyways.

So for the next few years Harry kept up the pretence of 'travelling', hiring brightly coloured postal birds in order to make it that much more believable.  
But the truth was that he hadn't gone travelling. Had never really left Britain or even the wizarding world. 

The truth was that he was now making a living as one of many Harry Potter impersonators in a night club on the recently rebuilt Knockturn Alley.

Admittedly it had become something of a roaring trade in certain circles to perform as 'Harry Potter' and - Harry had struggled not to laugh the first few times - he had been reliably informed by several punters that he was one of the best impersonators out there '-and his scar glamour was so detailed!'. 

Well, there was nothing like hiding in plain sight, after all.

So Harry had found a way to be himself without actually being forced to be himself. (It had made perfect sense to Harry when he explained this to himself).

Things were actually alright for a change and yeah, while maybe Harry wasn't the happiest he'd ever been, he wasn't unhappy either and there were no Dursleys or people out to kill him here, so he was free. That was what really mattered.

So of course Malfoy just had to turn up and ruin it all.  
Maybe Harry was cursed or something.


	2. Thirteen

'Oi, Harry!' One of his fellow dancers called. (And yes he really had chosen that as his actually name-de-scene - in all fairness no one ever suspected him of being the real Harry Potter so it clearly acted as a brilliant double bluff - either that or people just assumed he got really into character.) 'Punter's asking for you up front - said he wanted the best and he's willing to pay triple your usual rate.' 

Harry sighed internally as he checked his eyeliner in the cracked mirror of the club's backstage dressing room. Extra money either meant one of two things - either the wizard in question was an arrogant prick who liked to throw galleons around for the fun of it or he was into some kink that scared most people off. Or knowing Harry's luck, probably both.

'Did he say what he wants?' Harry asked.

'Private session in one of the deluxe rooms - he's already cleared it with Olly.' Olly was in fact Oliver Wood from Hogwarts, who had started his club 'Snitches', after a promising quidditch career had been cut short when cruciatus-induced nerve damage had permanently affected his grip and steering control. Though if he had specialised in providing entertainment for people with an extracurricular interest in Potter-performers for a reason other than the sheer profit to be made, Harry really didn't want to know. And as far as Olly knew, Harry was just another performer looking to make money and Harry planned to keep it that way. All performers at 'Snitches' were paid galleons-in-hand, no questions asked and their magical signatures were warded so that they had free entry to the building but they never had to share their names or show unglamoured faces if they didn't want to. All that mattered was that they did their jobs safely and well.

'Fine - what's the room number?' Harry sighed.

'Thirteen and hurry up - I haven't seen this guy before but he looks like the sort that gets his own way a lot and doesn't exactly look like he's used to being particularly patient about it.' 

The deluxe room. It figured. Harry thanked him for the tip and hurried to the room in question, pausing for a second outside the door to collect himself and slip on the neutral mask he had perfected over the years. Some customers were very specific in their interests and Harry had only the first few seconds upon entering the room to try and pre-empt what they wanted and try to inhabit that role. 

Sure, his job was a good deal easier than others he'd heard of - at least there was only one 'character' he had to role-play as, but some of the requests from patrons were awfully specific - some were more fantasy-based and wanted to be rescued by a dashing-hero-Potter, other wanted the stoic-boyfriend experience (not really all it was cracked up to be - just ask Ginny, Harry though to himself) and some just wanted a pretty bog-standard striptease or lap dance by a Potter-look-a-like. Harry didn't really care which, as long as they didn't break any of the club's rules (no exchange of bodily fluids, potions or unforgivables and nothing that hadn't been pre-negotiated) other than that he was fine with pretty much anything. And considering that wizards could use protection and barrier spells, it made that a pretty open field, but there were monitoring spells on all the private rooms and all performers wore a club uniform which included an emergency port key back to the private backstage area (activated by personal safewords) if they felt uncomfortable, so it was all good.

Oh yeah, that was one other thing - Harry wasn't just a dancer - he was also a professional switch - and he was good at it. He preferred to dom unless he had a recommendation from a colleague or at least had a bit of a rapport going with the client, though (especially after that one client had wanted to dominate Harry while the client role-played as Voldemort (that midscene glamour had come as something of a shock and that most certainly hadn't been negotiated beforehand. Thankfully Harry had safe worded and portkeyed himself out of there and the wizard had had his magical signature warded out of the club so he couldn't come back even if he tried to disguise himself with polyjuice or glamours. Harry hadn't subbed for a good long while after that - the resulting subdrop had been that bad, but that was a long time ago now and there hadn't been a repeat. So a little warier and wiser, Harry now has a more thorough list of Hard Limits, with any kind of Voldemort and/or Tom Riddle role play at the very top (and underlined). 

So Harry, reassured that it can't be anything truly awful waiting in room thirteen, opens and closes the door behind him before looking at his client.

When he does he freezes.

Because draped over a chaise longue like he owns the place is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

'Well, hello, Potter.'

Well, shit.


	3. Negotiation

Ok, so Harry is officially panicking internally now. What the hell is Draco doing here? He knows, doesn't he? He knows Harry is actually Harry and he's going to tell everyone and Harry'll have to leave and... Harry's breath might have sped up just a little at the sight of Malfoy and not in a good way, either. 

He should probably just ask Malfoy to leave or safeword out and let someone else deal with the git. Harry's starting to feel decidedly light-headed and he realises this is because he's hyperventilating and on the verge of a full blown panic attack. He backs up towards the door when he feels a gentle hand on his and a soft voice asking if he's alright. He looks down and sees that Malfoy is crouching before him in a non-threatening pose with an almost tender look on his face. When did that even happen? But Harry realises that the constant smooth sweeping motion of malfoy's thumb on the back of his hand is oddly soothing and Harry finds that he has mostly calmed down. He's being calmed down by Draco bloody Malfoy of all people, while impersonating himself in club for people predominantly possessing Potter kinks. Talk about surreal.

'I apologise if my appearance startled you,' Malfoy murmurs as he leads them both over to sit on the chaise, meanwhile Harry is wondering what alternate universe he must have slipped into for Malfoy to be apologising to him, 'I realise that most people are not terribly comfortable with the sudden appearances of ex-death eaters.' 

So Malfoy doesn't seem to know that Harry's Harry but rather thinks Harry's, what - having some sort of flashback because of his Dark Mark or something? Well, at least this he can deal with. Harry clears his throat and smiles politely at him. Well he is still a paying customer and hasn't broken any rules so he does owe him a bit of courtesy (he doesn't want to get fired after all). Plus he had been surprisingly understanding of Harry's reaction, so maybe this sort of thing has happened to him before. Interesting. 

'No it's fine - I'm sorry, I was just a little startled, but it's honestly fine. We can move onto negotiations if you're still willing?' Harry deliberately turns on his most charming smile and looks up through his eyelashes as though he's a bit shy to start - it's been a few years since he last saw him and he's testing to see whether Malfoy naturally takes more of a dominant or submissive role these days - they're not scening yet but little things like this can help Harry to get the measure of a client rather well and it's better to make any errors now rather than midscene. 

Malfoy however does not appear to notice Harry's tactics or if he does he doesn't seem to much care as he simply asks if Harry really is ok and once assured that he is, Malfoy reaches into a pocket of his robes and pulls out a rather large amount of parchment. Malfoy hands them over to Harry and looks at him expectantly. Harry's confusion must show on his face because Malfoy explains that they're details of his interests, soft limits and hard limits, as well as some basic ideas for scenes, including his safewords (standard verbal traffic light system and a nonverbal system too, Harry is happy to see) and an outline of the sort of aftercare he requires if he subs (not when, so he's interested in switching which is fine with Harry). The document is thorough and clearly indicative of a lot of research on Malfoy's part, though the one glaring omission is anything to tell Harry whether he has actually done this on a practical level before. 'So, is this your first time or...?' Harry lets the sentence hang so that Malfoy can fill in the blanks, but to his surprise Malfoy doesn't and instead blushes and ducks his head like he's embarrassed. So Harry pushes on before it can become an issue, 'it's fine if it is, I just need to know so that we can plan our scenes better, that's all. Everyone has to start somewhere.'

Malfoy takes a deep breath and then looks at Harry again. 'It's not that this is my first time but it is my first time in quite a while. The last time I scened my play partner was... Well, let's just say that they didn't respect my hard limits and leave it at that. It's taken me a while to work up the courage to scene again and I've never interacted with the kink community in the wizarding world before, so this is a bit new to me but I've had a few years of experience in the Bdsm community in the muggle world and from what I've read there is very little difference between the two other than the occasional bit of slang, so I'm thinking it shouldn't be too much of an issue?' Malfoy looks earnest and even a little worried, like Harry's going to throw him out if he gets something wrong.

'No that's fine, but I notice you've listed sex as a hard limit but there are a few more options with the addition of magic than muggle means, so could you be a bit more specific about that?' Harry asks, and Malfoy immediately looks braced for attack.

'No sex at all, meaning no touching of anyone's genitals by anything at any point and no nudity, so undergarments at the very least must stay on at all times. I would prefer to remain fully clothed, at least for the first few sessions. Also no sex toys or anything like that. And no orgasms.'

Harry is a little stunned. He had thought that Malfoy probably just didn't want penetration to be involved, but for the kind of money Malfoy's paying, Harry had kind of expected that at very least something like blowjobs or frotting would still be on the table. Yet again this is part of why negotiation was so important before scening with someone - you never knew quite where your definitions might differ and discussing it should prevent any major missteps. Harry realises that he has probably paused a bit to long when Malfoy shifts on the chaise next to him and raises an eyebrow in question, as if to ask if that's a deal breaker or whether Harry is alright with those conditions. Harry tries looking at Malfoy with an objective eye, admittedly Malfoy is attractive, and if Harry didn't know he was a git personality-wise then he'd have most likely fancied the pants off him, but he did know him and he was a git, so he wasn't going to cry over the tragedy of never seeing the contents of Malfoy's underwear. And he has done nonsexual scenes before, so it's while it's a bit of a surprise coming from Malfoy, it's certainly not unheard of. So Harry nods agreeably and then adds, because it was one of the few things not specified in Malfoy's lists, 'So what are your thoughts on kissing?' 

'Kissing is more than acceptable. But...' Malfoy trails off. 

'But?' Harry prompts him.

'But I haven't actually done it before. Um, ever.' Malfoy admits. 

Harry manages not to miss a beat this time - because he is finally back on familiar territory. This he can do. So he strokes the back of Draco's hand as he offers, 'I could teach you, if you like?' 

Draco's hand trembles a little in his hold but he resolutely meets Harry's gaze as he breathes, 'I'd like that. A lot.'

'Me, too. So what would you like me to call you Mr...?' Because Harry is the best in his profession for reasons other than his natural resemblance to himself after all and this is important to get established from the start.

'Draco. Just Draco is fine.' 

'Draco,' Harry tests out the name like it's one he's never said before (or thought about or had dreams about, not that it's particularly relevant to the job in hand).

Draco smiles when Harry says his name and it's not a gloating or sneering imitation of one like Harry might have expected but rather a truly happy, beautiful smile the likes of which Harry doesn't think he's seen on Draco's face except for when he received parcels of sweets from his mother. Certainly not something he's seen since before the war. 

Harry finds that he wants to see more of it, so he says: 'Well, then Draco, you may call me Harry.'


	4. Scening

Their first few scenes together are rather light, which is always preferable to starting out with too heavy a hand (so to speak - impact play wasn't actually something they wanted to explore together) when first starting out together, especially as you're still learning the person's sensitivity and preferences in technique.

They stick to things that they're both comfortable with - so their sessions follow a pattern for the most part. They both remain fully clothed throughout and Draco opts to sub until Harry knows him a bit better, but is open to domming in the future. Their interests are surprisingly compatible - neither of them are sadomasochists, so pain is never a goal of theirs, and they both prefer the sensual and gentle side of d/s, including bondage, so they start slowly. Harry can't stand the feel of rope constricting him, but he is a brilliant rigger and proud of his skills as such, so he works with Draco to explore his interests. Draco is not keen on full body ties at first but he is interested in partial bondage, so Harry enables him to experience a range of ties separately, chest harnesses, arm binds and at one point, after they've been doing this for a while, partial suspension which they both enjoy and Draco requests that they try again. They don't much like the more formalised aspects of d/s roles - they learn through discussions they have over the weeks that calling anyone 'sir' reminds them both too much of their schooldays (Harry avoids most personal questions, so he never actually discusses where he was educated and Draco never asks) and Draco reveals that kneeling and calling anyone 'master' or 'lord' is a hard limit for reasons that are not too difficult to deduce.

The majority of their scenes are based in soft caresses, gentle touches and whispered praise - never humiliation or degradation, neither of them like it - and the tenderness of their time together comes to mean a lot to Harry. He still has other clients at the club (Draco doesn't pay him enough to cover the rent on his flat down the road after all) but his sessions with Draco are fast becoming one of his highlights of his week. It's odd how quickly it had become a routine - Snitches was open every night of the week from 8pm until 4am but Draco always came on Thursdays (which happened to be the club's quietest night of the week - weekends were busiest and week nights ran discounts or theme nights but Thursdays were DADA-themed and all the choreographed reenactments of the Chosen One's fights on stage turned Harry's stomach a little, so he mostly hung out back stage unless he was requested for a private session. Now he found himself waiting eagerly in room thirteen on Thursdays in anticipation of Draco's arrival. 

When Draco arrives this evening, he is prompt as always - the club doors must have only just opened, he spots Harry sitting on the chaise and smiles.  
'Good evening, Harry,' he says as he hangs up his black velvet cloak on the back of the door. Underneath he is wearing form-fitting satin black robes with delicate silver embroidery around the collar. Harry is as always, dressed in his muggle finest of a comfy, worn in tshirt and jeans (just his general casual clothing like he would normally wear, only here it's celebrated as an amazingly accurate costume - he's had to give other performers tips over the years so he didn't end up with doppelgangers running around unwittingly dressed in combinations such as nightshirts, hot pants and combat boots or swimwear and wellies, so he's accidentally become something of an expert in muggle fashion, not that he particularly thinks his ratty converse would win any prizes outside of this establishment, but here they're 'authentic Potter-wear'. Oh well.)

'Good evening, Draco,' Harry rise to greet him, 'I thought we might try something a little different tonight, but still within our interests. Colour?' Harry asks as he strokes Draco's face gently.

'Green,' Draco breathes.

'Good boy' Harry praises and he can see the effect of his words immediately - the tension in the set of Draco's shoulders eases the tiniest bit and his eyes eagerly watching Harry for instructions, 'Sit down and make yourself comfortable, I'm going to start with blindfolding you and then we're going to play a little game. How does that sound?' 

'Green. Very green.' Draco answers and Harry can tell from the further relaxation in his posture once Draco has settled on the chaise and Harry has tied the silk scarf securely around his head that Draco is already partway into his submissive headspace. His breathing is slower and deeper and he leans more fully into the touch of Harry's hands when he strokes him. He's still fully clothed but Harry has learned that Draco is so responsive that it barely makes a difference whether he strokes over the bare skin of his hands or the clothed skin of his chest. It's all comforting and gentle and Draco soaks the affectionate touches in as much as Harry soaks in his reactions - the breathy gasps, the tremulous sighs, the feel of Draco's muscles melting beneath his touch and most of all the little soft smile that plays about Draco's full lips. Lips that Harry has come to love kissing. Draco is a brilliant kisser - was shy and hesitant at first but followed Harry's directions well and can now kiss so well that he steals Harry's breath sometimes and Harry honestly doesn't know where he learned how to pull that off.

But for now Harry places a soft, almost chaste kiss to Draco's lips and tells him, 'I'm going to paint you, Draco. I'm going unfasten your robes so that your torso and arms are bare and then I'll lay you down on your stomach so I can paint whatever I like onto your beautiful body. And when I'm finished you're going to tell me what I've painted on you. If you can work out what it is, you'll get a reward, if not, then I'll just have to save it until you earn it. Colour?'

'Green,' Draco whispered. He was trembling slightly but Harry could feel the heat radiating from his skin and he was smiling even more than before, so Harry knew it was a sign of excitement, not trepidation. Harry slowly unbuttoned the front of Draco's robes down to his navel but no further and draped the sleeves gently over Draco's lap so he could easily feel that his lower body was still fully covered. Harry laid a gentle kiss to Draco's shoulder in response to which Draco let out a happy little sigh that Harry was very fond of hearing. He laid Draco out as he'd said, making sure Draco's head was turned to the side so he could breathe and checking the blindfold was still comfortably in place. Then Harry reached over the back of the chaise for the paints and brushes he had prepared in advance - the paints were charmed to stay at just above body temperature so that they would soothe and relax any sore muscles and prevent the shock of cold that could startle Draco out of his headspace. They had discovered pretty early on that Draco was most decisively not a fan of temperature play - when Draco had asked Harry to try ice play with him they had both been entirely unprepared for the high-pitched yelp that Draco had emitted and preceded an immediate 'yellow' so that Draco could opt for the rest of the scene to be ice-free.

As Harry applies the first few brush strokes of paint near the top of Draco's spine he sees Draco shoulders relax a bit more and the faint hum of tension that he usually carried with him faded further the longer Harry continued. Truthfully, the atmosphere of this scene was more akin to that of a massage than the stereotypical Bdsm scene, but the constantly murmured praise Harry gave Draco for being so good, so still, so relaxed for me, let Draco sink deeper into subspace, which in turn made Harry feel good. It wasn't a sexually-based feeling, Draco was frankly gorgeous (Harry had made his peace with this fact quite a while ago now) and less of a git than he had been at hogwarts. But the honest truth of the matter was that seeing Draco relax and feel good made Harry feel good, like he had achieved something important and worthwhile and it gave him a kind of bone-deep satisfaction that he didn't feel even when he was pleasing a dom he submitted to. Quite frankly he didn't know what to call it. 

But he knew he liked it. More than that, he knew he liked Draco.


	5. Wings

After endless moments composed of the hushed whisper of baby-soft bristles on skin and the slick slide of warm paint and the gentle rise and fall of Draco's breaths, Harry finally sat back and admired his work. He stroked Draco's arm, so he was never out of contact for a moment and allowed Draco to enjoy the relaxation for a little while longer until the paint was fully dry. Harry would admit freely that he was no professional artist but looking at Draco was like looking at a sunset, some things simply shone with beauty no matter what was placed in front of it. Harry was glad that Draco was blindfolded still, because he was a little worried that some of his feelings might have shown on his face otherwise. As it was, he was free to look and simply let himself feel what he was feeling without risk. A few minutes later, once the paint had dried Harry ran a clean dry brush over the outline of his work as he put his mouth to Draco's ear and whispered: 'you've done so well, you look so beautiful. Do you think you can tell me what I've painted on you?'

Draco's tongue poked out to wet his lips before answering quietly, '...wings, I think they're wings.'

Harry praised him for getting it right and placed gentle kisses all over the wings, before gently coaxing Draco to sit up so he could slowly remove the blindfold. The lighting in room thirteen was soft anyways but Harry always made sure to dim the lights even further for a little while to give Draco's eyes time to adjust to seeing again. Once the lighting was back to a soft glow and Draco was focusing properly, Harry kissed him on the cheek and instructed him to look in the mirrors he had summoned ready. Once Draco caught sight of the wings, the feathers detailed in rich purples and deep blues with threads of silver and gold interwoven through them, he gasped softly and tears fell silently from his face. Harry squeezed his hand twice (a nonverbal check-in, since Draco seemed to be a bit beyond words right now) and Draco returned the gesture, signalling that he was alright. Then he leaned toward Harry and kissed him until the room span and Harry had to come up gasping for air himself. 

'Thank you,' Draco whispered, tears still freely running down his face. 

Draco had never outright thanked him before and Harry didn't know what to say so he simply kissed him back and held Draco close until his tears stopped. 

It wasn't until long after the scene and aftercare had ended and Harry had finished work and gone back to his flat that he had realised that he had never once thought to even look for Draco's Dark Mark and more than that, he found that he didn't particularly care that he hadn't. But, he realised, Draco had and that was why he had reacted so strongly. 

Because Harry didn't see him as a death eater. He just saw Draco. 

His Draco.


	6. Truth

After several months of scening and friendly conversation which always revealed more about Draco than about Harry (Harry was after all playing the 'role' of Harry Potter and he couldn't risk showing he was too knowledgable, after all) Harry was ready to admit that he might have a problem. He was fairly certain that he was in love with Draco, had been for a while, in fact. He was even pretty sure that Draco felt the same way.

But...

Draco didn't really love him. If anything he was in love with an actor pretending to be Harry (Harry was honestly no longer sure whether he was supposed to be amused, flattered, insulted or jealous about that). 

And with every passing day their feelings for each other were clearly growing, so Harry had a problem. He had to tell Draco the truth.  
\----  
The next time Draco came to room thirteen, he took off his cloak as usual and Harry asked to talk with him before they negotiated anything else. Draco looked a little perplexed but agreed nonetheless and sat down next to Harry.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to prepare himself mentally for the fallout that would inevitably follow. 

When Draco caught sight of the serious expression on Harry's face he immediately looked worried and grabbed Harry's hands as he asked, 'Harry, is everything alright?'

Harry let out a shaky laugh and shook his head, 'No I'm - it's... I've been wanting to tell you but I didn't know how. Draco...?'

'Yes?'

'I'm Harry Potter.' There he had said it. No going back now.

'I know.' Draco immediately answered, like this was obvious.

God, Harry wanted to cry. He wasn't getting it. 'No, you don't understand. I'm Harry Potter, the real Harry Potter. Look - finite incantatem!' Harry pointed his wand at himself to show that he wasn't wearing any glamours. But when he looked at Draco didn't see shock or horror, just a patient and vaguely confused expression.

'Why aren't you shocked?' Harry asked him and it couldn't mean what he thought, it couldn't be that...

'I knew. I told you. I knew it was you, Harry.'

'Excuse me? Since when, exactly?' Harry asked and this time Draco's face showed a hint of guilt. 'You knew all along, didn't you? What and you didn't think to tell me?' Ok so maybe Harry was getting a teensy bit hysterical but this made absolutely no sense whatsoever unless -his heart clenched painfully - it was all some elaborate joke designed to humiliate him. 

Draco squeezed his hand twice which brought Harry's mind back to the conversation at hand. 'Harry I promise I haven't done this to hurt you.'

Harry laughed wetly and wiped a stray tear away from his eye. 'Why should I believe a word that you say? You've been lying to me for months. This whole relationship or whatever it was, was supposed to be built on trust but clearly that doesn't meant anything to you. There I was feeling guilty about not telling you the truth when you knew all along. And to think that I actually-' Harry broke off with a frustrated growl and turned away from Draco.

'Harry listen to me, I have never lied to you, I swear. And what we have together is worth more to me than I could ever have imagined. You mean so much to me Harry I can't even put it into words.' At Harry's scoff Draco stops and glares at him. 'Yes, I care about you, more than you know Harry and the truth is that I'm not the only person that does. That's the whole reason I was even here in the first place. Your friends are worried about you. Your little letters haven't been fooling anyone and if you think that Granger can't manage a simple tracking spell to find out where those birds came from - I mean you used the one pet shop in Diagon Alley - it's like you were trying to get caught - and of course Granger being Granger, she always was the smartest out of you three, well she figured you were hiding in a Potter-performers club but how to find a bowtruckle in a pile of sticks? That's where I came in. You see, you might not realise this but when you returned my wand to me after the war, you were still connected to it and Hermione knew that I might be able to find you through the link and I can but it only works at close distance, so I knew I'd have to come here undercover and possibly meet with dozens of Potter-a-likes before I found the real you, but I had to try.'

'Why?' Harry asked - his head was spinning with the influx of new information but that was the one thing that made the least sense. 'Why did you have to? The last I knew you and Hermione couldn't stand each other and you certainly weren't on speaking terms. What changed?'

'I saved her life and that of her unborn child during labour. Yes, she has a daughter now - Rose, her name is and I was present as part of my training to become a healer - and they both nearly died when Rose's magical core became unstable and when it ran too low she leached off of her mother's magic, resulting in Granger haemorrhaging magic dangerously quickly. The healer-in-charge at the time thought it was an allergic reaction to one of the potions and was about the drain Granger's system of magic to try and eliminate it. But doing so in her condition would have drained her completely and killed them both, luckily I was there and able to point out that her medical notes showed she'd had no previous reactions to any of the potions in her systems and that her hair wasn't glowing blue like it would if she actually were mis-reacting to the potions in question. So they did extra test results, turned out I was right, and they gave her magic replenishers. After that the labour was perfectly routine and Granger reckoned she owed me a life debt and that I had redeemed myself or some such. Anyways after that she kept inviting me around to the Burrow for Sunday dinners and I didn't dare refuse...' Draco stared into the distance as he rubbed the side of his face as though feeling an echo of the slap Hermione had delivered in third year.

'Okay so you and Hermione are best friends and she still scares the crap out of you - do you think you could get to the part where you explain why the hell you didn't just tell me you knew it was me at the start?' Harry could probably have phrased that a bit more politely but it seemed like he had missed out on so much since he'd gone into hiding - yeah he knew Hermione had had a baby but he didn't know they'd nearly died in the process. Hadn't she trusted him enough to tell him? Although in fairness Harry hadn't been entirely honest with her either. 

'Look, would you honestly have listened to me? When I first saw you you nearly bolted just from seeing me. If I had told you that your friends knew where you were you would more than likely have run off for good and then there would have been no way of finding you again. And the look on your face - I know that look. You were terrified and I couldn't rip away the only safe place you had left. I may only have been a friend of a friend at that point but I could see that you were hurting and I couldn't do that to you. You had a panic attack right in front of me - and yes I do know what those are, there's a reason I qualified as a healer despite my reputation, thank you - and I know what a drowning person looks like. You were trying to escape the only way you could and it was slowly destroying you. I could see it in your eyes. Some people hide in drink or drugs. You ran away and masqueraded as a shadow of yourself, some everywizard's fantasy of what the chosen one should be. They wanted the hero, well that's exactly what you gave them. And sure sex is a coping mechanism that loads of people have used, but at least do it as yourself so you have the chance for a little happiness. But no, you'd hidden yourself so well that that was never going to be an option. Love would never be an option. And I just... I wanted, as selfish as it sounds I wanted to see if I could make you happy. I only planned to become friends with you, maybe convince you to visit Granger and Weasley every now and then so they don't glare at me over Mrs Weasley's roast dinners of a Sunday, but then you... I don't know you were just you, alright? And I couldn't help it, I fell for you and I didn't know how to tell you and now I've ruined everything and-'

Harry cut him of with a kiss and while Draco was momentarily stunned into inaction, Harry cradled his face in his hands and said, 'No, you haven't. I've fallen for you, too, Draco.'

They spent the rest of the night kissing each other and when the club shut for the night they went back to Harry's flat. Harry still had plenty to sort out - starting with reuniting with his friends and he would soon, but for now he had more important things to be doing, like snuggling up with Draco and going to sleep.


	7. Epilogue

Seeing Draco's blonde hair glowing from the sunlight peaking through the gap in the curtains makes for a very welcome sight the next morning. As soon as they had gotten in last night they had gone straight up to bed, curled up together and gone to sleep and for once Harry hadn't had a single nightmare all night. Draco had stolen all the covers at one point but a quick engorgio charm had made sure there was more than enough blanket to snuggle under. Draco also snored - Harry found that endlessly endearing for some reason - he could just imagine Draco's indignant pout of 'Malfoys don't snore' if he told him about it when he woke up. He chuckled slightly at the thought but thought better of it when Draco's eyes fluttered open. He glared sleepily at Harry then apparently fell back asleep if the soft snuffling noises he was making were anything to go by. 

He was in love with Draco Malfoy and they'd just slept together for the first time. Harry smiled and cuddled closer to Draco as he fell back asleep for a little while longer.

All might not have been well, but for the first time in a long time, Harry had hope that they would be one day.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments gratefully received, especially as this is my first time posting fanfic :)


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